All in a Name
by Endril McMerlyn
Summary: A little one-shot of Jack. Former Captain Jack, with nothing left but an island to call his grave, makes some discoveries and decisions.


Disclaimer: I do not own anything Pirates of the Caribbean related. Gomen Nasai!

*Author's Note* this is probably just a one shot here, do to some bad writer's block. This is the beta-read version! Whoot! So sit back and enjoy! 

  
  


All in a Name

  


Jack shifted uncertainly on his heels as he stared out into the sea. He had taken his boots off to dry, and now his feet, unused to being unclad, rested in the warm sand, cooling slowly in the dying afternoon. If there was one thing he hated in life, it was dry land. Land that stayed still underneath your feet, that didn't rock you ever so softly. He needed the feel of the sea under him, the feel of that hard wood, the sound of the sails creaking in the wind. He felt slightly sick on land, unbalanced and unnatural. When he walked, he swaggered, un-used to the balance of the hard permanent ground. Jack had never understood those who lived their life on land. Jack, like everyone else, had spent his first 9 months of life within the womb... how could it be that land was natural and the sea was not? The Sea was the one thing he could count on to always be there, his one constant in life. No matter what, it was always awaiting him...

Even now, it offered itself to Jack as it lapped up at the sands. Now in the darkest time of his life, Jack still always had the Sea. It stretched out into nothingness. It was just Jack and the Sea. Something inside him screamed to give up, that it would be less painful to end it now, to go down with the sea like he had always planned on doing, than to die slowly of hunger and thirst. But something inside would not relent, and at his side, his fists clenched. He could not so fast give up. He could not so fast let Barbossa win.

He stared where he had been standing for the past 4 hours, his legs tiredly protesting, his muscles screaming in agony for some rest. But Jack remained frozen as was, his face emotionless. He, despite everything that had happened in the past few hours, was unhurt. Physically, he was simply wet. The Caribbean nights would be warm enough. Mentally, he had to admit himself he was beginning to doubt himself. His life had been turned upside-down. What once made sense was now all confusion, those he had thought he knew and trusted, not who he had thought they were. It was all like a bad dream. It lingered in the mind, and yet one began questioning themselves on whether it had all been real.

The only thing Jack wanted or cared about now was his ship. The Pearl. He had memorised every inch of her, brought her through storm and shine, caressed her wood and scrubbed her clean like a cabin-boy. She held his memories. 

It was just a ship. So many people had said this to him before, and people would say it to him again if he lived through this. Jack just shook his head sadly at those people. The Pearl was not a ship. It was so much more than just a 'ship.' A ship was a piece of equipment used for man's need to cross the sea to get to one place to another. Oh no, The Pearl was not just a ship. She was his life. His home. His freedom. While some men had a nice little house with a thatched roof and brick walls, with a floor that stayed in one place and tables that didn't move in their cabin, with dishes that didn't slide from one side of the table to another. Jack smiled fondly. He had always been a wanderer, even before his pirate days. He hardly remembered them now. But he needed the freedom, not to be tied down to a piece of land that ended at a beach and left the rest to be imagined. What had Giselle called him once? A rogue. A rogue who followed his heart, followed the swells of the sea wherever it would take him, followed the wind with only the stars to guide him. A wild rover who followed the call of he Sea. There were lives to lead and things to see that those people on land would never experience. Jack may have given up some things– a permanent family, stability; he had given up ever having a true place in the world of men. He and his breed were hated by all, for their wandering, unlawful ways, but he wouldn't trade his life for anything. 

Despite himself in his silent reverie, Jack couldn't help but crack a slight grin. If he was going to go crazy as he died alone on an isle, then by all means, why not start now? It wasn't as if anyone could see him standing there, smiling to himself. 

His wild life had certainly caught up with him now, though, hadn't it? Jack unclenched his hand, sore and white, and put it in his vest pocket. Beads. Where had *these* come from? Red, small... Had he picked them up during some loot? Not likely, they were worthless, not even all that shiny. Had someone given them to him? Had it been some lady friend from Tortuga during a drunken care-free night? That life seemed so far away. Surely Bootstrap... no, Jack was not going to think of Bootstrap right now. Never again could he think about it without that pain in his heart. Jack hated that pain almost more than he hated this island. And yet, looking at the beads, they brought back a feeling of comfort and warmth, something familiar in a land of unfamiliarity, even if he couldn't quite place when the beads had been given to him. Jack took the beads and twirled them in between his fingers. They were smooth, glassy. 

Finally with something to occupy his mind, a challenge to work out, a reason to think and live, though small and childish as it may have seemed to others, Jack allowed himself to sit. As soon as his mind gave the command, his exhausted limbs collapsed under him. Slowly, thoughtlessly, he began to braid his beard and beaded it out of pure interest. 

Once again, looking out as the sun set over the water, he smiled. After all, it was only another day in the life of a pirate. The wind had sent him here, and here he would stay. Tomorrow, he would take what life had given him. He would explore the island, make it his home for as long as he lived... even if it was only a few days. He once had been Captain of his Pearl, for a few days, the last in his life, he would be King of his Island. Finished with the beads, he grinned as the beads swung from the end of his braided beard. He only wished he had a mirror to see how it looked. How mad he would look to anyone who came by! 

Not that anyone would. Jack would not be a fool and believe foolishly that someone would come and rescue him. They had taken the one thing that had mattered to him, his Pearl, his home, and his life, but he would never completely give up hope. For there _was_ one thing he still had, the one thing that Barbossa, nor anyone else would be able to take from him. He had lived, and by all means so he would die as Captain Jack Sparrow. No one could take his name.


End file.
